Chapter 2: Frontier Traveler

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Someplace…
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    “Macavity,” hissed a sibilant voice, a summoning circle painted on the ground glowing. 

    The fire-furred catwoman groaned in annoyance when she realized who had summoned her into the dark chamber.  “What is it, Cocooner?” she said, closing her eyes and allowing herself to picture the humanoid form of the current leader of their uneasy alliance.

    “Where is Sample: Storm Knight?” hissed the insectile Pokégirl, fluttering her wings. 

    Macavity rolled her eyes.  “Is that all?  I was about to make my report anyway.  He’s someplace safe, don’t worry.  The Coven put one of their marks on him so that should accelerate things.  He never really had an expy in this time period, like the Scribe of Howls did, so it would take longer otherwise for anything in him to ‘manifest.’”

    The insectile woman hissed, and then nodded, fluttering her wings.  “Not entirely acceptable.  Sample: Macavity, your definition of ‘safe’ differs greatly from the norm.  Caution must be maintained.  Sample: Storm Knight is amongst the strongest of the Summoned Makers.  Should the negative elements in Sanctuary get ahold of them before they can be awakened and sent away, then the Project will be in danger.” 

    Macavity purred, chuckling.

    “You find this amusing?” Cocooner demanded. 

    “Of course,” she said, “The lot of us HATE each other normally, and yet here we all are, putting aside our individual differences to help save our own asses.  Gotta love the sisterhood we all share.” 

    Cocooner seemed to roll her eyes.  “Irrelevant.  Keep watchful of Sample: Storm Knight and the others.  The Project must be protected.” 

    Macavity purred laughter again.  “Would you relax?  This is me we’re talking about here.  The Pokéwoman who kept getting you ‘samples’ for that little genetics lab you have in your belly when no one else will.” 

    Cocooner hissed.  “Your assistance in furthering the Project is appreciated.  But you must put aside your pride now, and try to reign in your love of chaos.  The Project is in danger.  Where is Sample: Storm Knight?” 

    Macavity just purred. 

    “Answer now,” Cocooner demanded.

    “Or what?” Macavity teased.

    Cocooner made an annoyed sounding clicking, and shifted forms to her Cocoon-beast state, mounting herself on the wall of her lair. 

    Macavity purred, “Don’t you fret, Cookoo.  Our little Storm Knight may have some trouble at first, but he’ll be fine.  All your little plans will proceed apace.  For now…”

    Cocooner, who was unable to speak in this form, just hissed at Macavity, who laughed, sinking back into the shadows of Cocooner’s lair and vanishing. 

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Elsewhere…
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    “Hello?” FF called out as he headed down the dirt road.  It was fairly well-maintained, with several devices lining it that he guessed were Feral repellants. 

    He shook his head, trying to clear it.  He was still wrapping his head around the concept that he was in the Pokégirl World now, something he thought that was just a creation of himself and several very talented authors.  His wallet, watch, ring, keys, and amulet were still with him, something he was silently grateful for, but other than that, he had nothing.  Nothing to go on, no landmarks to follow, he was completely lost.  He wasn’t even sure what League he was in. 

    “Could have at least dropped me someplace closer to civilization…” he muttered, heading down the road, not sure if he should be grateful that he hadn’t encountered any Ferals yet or be worried.  He looked ahead to the city in the distance, and sighed, walking onward. 

    Eventually he came to a paved path, and followed it, taking the left branch when he came to a fork in the road, as it looked to be heading on a more direct path to the city in the distance.

    When it started raining an hour later as the sun set, with the city actually looking farther away, FF was reminded why he never did that well on tests in college…

    Shivering, the rain pouring down in droves, he looked around, debating his best course of action.  He blinked, noticing a small wisp of smoke, one steadily being beaten down, further down the path.  Lacking any better options and not really knowing how far it was to the city anyway, he kept running down the path, hoping that whomever was at the end of it wouldn’t kill him. 

    After ten minutes of running through increasing rain, which had subsequently become a thunderstorm, he came up to a large clearing in the middle of the forest, a drab, gray series of buildings which looked like a storage facility back in his own world. 

    FF coughed.  “Oh.  Fine.  Now I’m catching a cold,” he muttered.  He stared at the building, at the now smokeless chimney, and sighed. 

    “No sense contemplating what ifs,” he muttered, shivering in the freezing rain, “Might as well just knock and see what comes.” 

    Walking up to the facility, he coughed again and knocked on the door.  When no answer came, he knocked again, a little harder.  “H-Hello?” he called, shivering, wishing the door would open. 

    After a few more attempts at knocking, a tall, powerfully built man with a large slash scar over one eye opened the door, staring at him suspiciously. 

    FF gulped nervously.  “H-Hi… My name’s…” FF thought about it a moment, and decided not to give his real name, “Franklin Faulkner.  I got separated from my travel group in the forest, and lost my ‘girls to a Feral.  I’m… I’m rather lost right now and could use a place to stay for the night.” 

    The scar-faced man frowned, stroking his thick, heavy, beard, and nodded.  “Hnh.  Ferals around here are rough.  You got lucky coming this way, only ones around during the rain really are Treants, and they don’t bug anyone unless they get bugged first.” 

    Thunder rumbled.  FF sneezed.  The scar-faced man rolled his eyes.  “Come in, come in,” he said in an irritated tone, “I’ll see if we got some cold meds around here…” 

    “Thank you,” FF said, walking into the main lobby of the building, a stark, unassuming place where only a nervous-looking Ingenue tended the desk.  “Where am I, anyway?” he asked.

    The scar-faced man grunted.  “My ranch.  We’re in the midst of the old Katmai National Park, on the Alaskan Peninsula.  We’re a little ways off from King Salmon, which is the hub of Battle Frontier territory.  Still don’t know why Capital kept so many of the old names for their towns… Anyway, you with a tour group?” 

    FF thought for a moment and nodded.  “Yessir,” he said, “I’m a Non-Combat Tamer from Stamford.  I had a Growlie and a Tigress with me, but they got killed when we got attacked by a Blade Bunny swarm.”  He prayed that Blade Bunnies had been sighted in this area.  He had no idea what he was doing, and really wanted to remain unnoticed for now until he could get his bearings. 

    The scar-faced man cursed.  “Damn Wabbits… Bad enough we got so many damn Grizzlars and Ursines in the area, that damn Mountain Cat pride up near the mountains, plus all the other high level Ferals…” he snarled.  He then sighed, and smiled benevolently, an expression which looked unnatural on him.  “Glad you’re all right, at least.  You rest up.  Nattie here will get you a snack.  And if you wanna tumble, ‘case you miss your girls, that’s fine too.  She’ll be more than happy to help.” 

    FF looked over to the Ingenue, who smiled nervously and nodded.  FF’s blood ran cold a little when he saw her neck, which bore a horrific scar on it, as if someone had performed piss-poor surgery on her.  FF held his tongue in check, though, as the scar-faced man had six Pokéballs on his belt and looked like he could kill FF even without them.  The scar-faced man left the room, leaving FF alone with Nattie.  He smiled warmly at her, although she seemed more intent on making sure the man was out of earshot. 

    Once she was certain he was gone, she picked up a notepad and hastily scribbled something on it, taking it over to FF.  FF’s eyes widened. 

    On it was simply two words: RUN AWAY. 

    In the room the scar-faced man went into, an employee lounge with a broken down television on it, the scar-faced man went up to the two men in there watching TV.  One was a lanky, muscular young man with the face of a teen idol.  He had a Bimbo on his lap, and was contentedly fondling and flirting with the giggling Pokégirl, oblivious to the television.  The other was a fat, loutish-looking man who was eating a thick-sliced KATTLE meat sandwich that was piled high with onions and mustard. 

    The scar-faced man kicked the chairs out from underneath both men, sending them toppling to the ground. 

    “Davidson.  Deitrich.  Quit foolin’ around, I got us a suspicious person out here,” the scar-faced man snarled.

    The teen idol, looking offended that his attempts to enjoy his Bimbo were ignored, glared at him.  “Suspicious?  Applies to a lot of us, boss,” he muttered, comforting his Bimbo as best he could, the blonde-haired Pokégirl having fallen on her butt. 

    “Don’t give me lip, Davidson.  I don’t care if you are my brother’s son, I still expect you to work when I call on it,” the scar-faced man snapped. 

    The fat man, salvaging as much of his sandwich as he could, snickered.  “Youth is wasted on the young,” Deitrich said, “That’s a well-established fact.  What’s up, Marco?”

    Marco gestured towards the door.  “Some young mook wandered in out of the rain.  Said he was attacked by a buncha Wabbits and lost his girls, getting separated from his tour group.” 

    Davidson blinked.  “They give tour groups out this far?” 

    Marco slapped Davidson in the back of the head, making both he and his Bimbo yelp.  “Sometimes I wonder who’s smarter, you or the Bimbo.  They DON’T, stupid.” 

    The young man grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

    Deitrich nodded, suddenly understanding.  “You think he’s one of McMahon’s stooges?” 

    Marco nodded.  “Let out your Yuki-Onna, read his mind.  I want to see if he’s working for the McMahons.” 

    Deitrich frowned.  “Okay then,” he said, removing a Pokéball from his belt and opening it.  When the release light faded, a busty, pale-skinned woman with crystal white hair and eyes stood there.

    “Luca,” Deitrich said, “Go to the door and get a read on the person out there.” 

    The Yuki-Onna frowned, but nodded.  “I work better with actual contact,” she said.

    Marco shook his head.  “I don’t wanna risk him seeing a psychic if he’s actually a McMahon mook.  I can’t take the chance he’d recognize your breed,” he said. 

    Luca’s eyes widened, and she turned to Deitrich, who just shrugged and motioned for her to go to work.  “Very well,” she said, placing a hand on the door.  She closed her eyes and focused, concentrating the psychic part of her abilities on the figure in the lobby. 

    After a few moments, she drew back, alarmed.  “I… I can’t sense anything from him!” 

    Deitrich blinked.  “He got the Blank Mind gift?”

    Luca shook her head.  “No… No, I’d recognize that particular wall… It isn’t one of the Dark Ones mental protections either… All I get when I read him is a sense of lighting… And the sound of some woman laughing cruelly…” 

    Marco frowned.  “Fuck… Linda must have found a new way to block mind-readers.  No choice now, we gotta off him.”

    Deitrich nodded.  “Don’t worry, boss, Luca and I can take care of it.”

    Marco nodded, and opened the door again.  To his surprise, however, he saw Nattie, the frightened Ingenue at the desk, giving FF a flash drive and paper file and hurrying him out the door. 

    “You little sloppy cunt WHORE!” Marco bellowed.  He ran over to FF and Nattie, pulling them roughly inside the building again and throwing them to the floor.  He stomped roughly on FF’s chest, leaving him winded and doubled over, and kicked Nattie roughly in the face.  “Thought you could try and ruin this for us?” he snarled, “Try and avenge your sister by blowing our little operation?  Huh?  I thought you learned your place after the Doc removed your vocal cords, but I guess I was wrong.” 

    Nattie feebly tried to resist, but she had little defense against Marco, the powerfully built man savagely stomping on her chest until she was dead

    Both Davidson and Deitrich both seemed taken aback by this outburst.  Marco, visibly calmer now, rubbed the sweat from his brow and glared down at the bloody corpse of the Ingenue.

    Luca and Deitrich stared at Marco impassively, betraying no emotion on their faces.  Davidson just stared in horror, as if he couldn’t wrap what passed for his mind around what had just occurred.  Davidson’s Bimbo hugged him fearfully.  “Dude… That was like, so not cool,” she whimpered.

    “If you don’t make her keep quiet right now, I swear to the Thousand Gods I will put her in the feed for the ‘girls out in the Mill,” Marco said.  Davidson frantically fumbled with the Bimbo’s Pokéball for a moment before recalling her.

    FF, still recovering from the blow to his chest, looked up and coughed, blood coming out.  He stared up at Marco, what he said finally starting to sink in. 

    “Mill… A kit mill!?” he said, horrified at the very concept. 

    “Like you didn’t know,” Marco said, picking FF up roughly by the scruff of his shirt. 

    Deitrich nodded.  “I’ll take care of him boss, don’t worry.” 

    Marco shook his head.  “No time.  If he had no ‘girls with him he must have one of Vince’s trackers on him.  Get the knocked-up ‘girls in Maternity balls and kill all the ones that are just a few months along.  The less we have to carry the better.” 

    Deitrich blinked, trading worried looks with Luca.  “We’re moving the mill?” he asked.

    Marco nodded.  “We gotta get out of here.  If the rumors are right, for crimes like this the McMahons would give us to the Dark Angels. And I for one don’t fancy being turned into Dino-girl chow.   I gotta contact my brother, tell him to get the new location set up.  We gotta get rid of this mook, too,” he said, pulling one of his Pokéballs off of his belt. 

    Deitrich scowled, and looked at Luca, who shrugged helplessly and nodded.  He gestured, and Luca thrust her hands out, freezing Davidson’s Pokéballs to his belt and his feet to the floor.  Marco and FF both stared at Deitrich, a slow smile coming to FF’s face as he realized what was going on.

    “Whoa, hey!” Davidson yelped, “What’s going on?!” 

    Marco, a Pokéball still hand, glared at Deitrich, suddenly realizing.  “It’s a set up.  You’ve been a mole all along?”

    Deitrich nodded, pulling a badge out of the grimy coat he wore.  “Dennis Deitrich, Battle Frontier Justice Division.  I can’t let you leave yet, Marco, not until you’ve given up your brother.” 

    Marco threw FF roughly to the side, the young man’s head banging off a shelf, sending him sprawling to the ground, barely able to stay conscious. 

    “I can’t believe it,” Marco muttered, “All this time, I thought you to be a practical man.  That’s why I took you on this operation.  Over a year you’ve been helping me.”

    “It’s called ‘undercover investigations,’” Deitrich said, Luca taking a defensive position in front of him, “We’ve been tracking you and your brother for a while.  Rare Pokégirls ending up in the harems of idiots who couldn’t have obtained them legally.  You really think someone wouldn’t notice?” 

    “No one’s gonna notice, asshole,” Marco said, smirking, “Or have you forgotten that I never keep Dora in her Pokéball?”

    Deitrich’s eyes widened, six long, thin blades piercing through his torso.  He gagged, blood coming from his mouth as he collapsed, revealing the red, exo-skeletonal armor of a Sword Dancer, all six swords drawn.  Luca tried to turn to attack, but the Sword Dancer, showing remarkable agility for a six-armed sword-wielder in an enclosed space, dodged out of the way, her swords coating themselves in a purple toxin.  Luca tried to bring an ice blast to bear, but Dora was too quick, shoving three of her swords into the Yuki-Onna’s abdomen. 

    Luca convulsed, the poison on the blades entering her system.  The skin around the wounds started to turn purple as Dora withdrew them, the Yuki-Onna collapsing by her master’s side, Deitrich slowly staggering to his feet. 

    Marco chuckled, patting Dora on the rump as she sheathed her swords.  “That’s what I love about you, Dora,” she said, “You always earn your keep.” 

    The Sword Dancer grinned.  “Thank you, master.” 

    Deitrich glared at Marco as he came over to him.  “You may be wondering why Dora inflicted non-lethal wounds on you.  The thing is, Deitrich, I kinda want you to watch as the poison kills your Yuki-Onna.  Can’t do that if you die.  After which, I’m afraid you will have encountered a ‘feral Ursine’ out in the woods.  Such a shame.  An officer dying in the line of duty while investigating a criminal.” 

    Deitrich coughed, and spat in Marco’s face.  The scar-faced man flew into a rage, punching Deitrich roughly and sending him crashing back to the ground. 

    “You FUCKER!!  You COP FUCKER!!  Do you REALLY think it would have been be that easy?  That I and my bro are just some Team Galactic mooks?  This is a CHRONOS operation!!  I’ve been prepared to deal with people like you for years!!” Marco bellowed.

    Deitrich just smirked, and spoke into his watch.  “You get that?” 

    Marco stared at Deitrich, confused. 

    “Affirmative,” said a voice, “Moving in.”

    At which point a Panthriducia tore down the wall.  Dora tried to react, reaching for her swords, but the massive, black-furred feline slapped her aside, sending her crashing through the door into the lounge. 

    “Gah hah hah!” the Panthriducia bellowed, “Bog for deener!” She lunged after Dora, jaws opened wide, the Sword Dancer’s screams filling the room along with the sickening crush of exo-skeleton being shattered. 

    Marco felt a blast of cold behind him and turned towards the opening, seeing a massive figure clad in black standing there, a buxom, scantily clad, pale-skinned woman with rather poofy black hair and prominent fangs standing next to him. 

    “I would advise you to surrender,” the man said, “If you do not wish to die.  By authority of the Capital League, you are under arrest.” 

    Davidson, who was as cowardly as he was good-looking, raised his hands immediately.  Marco snarled, and looked to Deitrich, who was administering an antidote to Luca.  “You planned this…” Macro muttered. 

    Deitrich nodded, smirking.  “When I realized that you were ready to merge operations with your brother, the BFJD contacted Capital League authorities for backup.  I got lucky and they were able to spare the Undertaker.”

    “Surrender immediately,” Undertaker said, his Panthriducia emerging from the lounge, licking her blood-stained lips.  “Your Sword Dancer has moved on, and my Lucarda is more than quick enough to prevent you from accessing the rest of your Pokégirls.” 

    Marco sneered, and then looked over at FF, who was recovering from being knocked out, his head bleeding from coming into contact with the bookshelf.  Before either Deitrich or Undertaker could react, Marco grabbed FF by the throat and started backing away, heading out of the main building and into the main lot. 

    “Stay back, damn you!” Marco snarled, “I swear I’ll kill this guy if you don’t stay back.” 

    Undertaker, his Lucarda, and his Panthriducia started after Marco, the Lucarda turning to Deitrich and giving him a sympathetic look. 

    “You gonna be okay, big guy?” she asked.

    “I’ll be fine, Elvyra,” he said, pulling a field medkit out of his coat and attending to his own injuries, Luca slowly coming to her senses as the antidote purged her system of poison  The fat man sat down, dizzy from the loss of blood, “When I trigged the contact with Taker I also alerted backup.  They’re gonna be here soon.  Just take care of him quickly.” 

    Elvyra nodded, trying not to lick her lips hungrily at the sight of Deitrich’s blood and turning to follow her master out. 

    FF struggled in the much stronger man’s grasp, Marco bellowing orders at Undertaker as he stalked after him. 

    “You just stay the fuck back!” he snarled as he stepped back into the rain. 

    Undertaker glared at him.  “You won’t be getting away.  We have enough evidence to warrant summary execution, so surrender now and I will make your death painless,” he said, his voice as booming as the thunder that surrounded them.

    Marco laughed.  “So high and mighty.  The Capital League, the bastion of Pokégirl rights.  You’re all just Sanctuary’s puppets, is what you are!!”

    Undertaker’s Panthriducia growled, but Undertaker put a hand on her shoulder, holding the hulking Pokégirl back.  “Sanctuary has no hold on me and is irrelevant to the discussion.  You are guilty of illegal and unethical breeding operations.  Surrender and you MIGHT live to get a fair trial.” 

    “FUCK YOU,” Marco said, squeezing FF’s neck.  “Back off or I kill your tracker here!”

    Undertaker gave FF a confused look.  “He is not one of ours,” he thundered. 

    “LIAR!” Marco bellowed, “Fucking liars and hypocrites, all of you!  I heard what happened to that freak boy in Ocean.  Chronos’s ears are everywhere!”

    “Ocean’s laws are their own, and have little to do with Capital in that respect.  The WAPL is not a kingdom, but a confederacy.  Your arguments are null.  The youngster’s loss will be tragic, but I cannot let a member of Chronos, even one as low level as you, get away.  I am prepared to slay you both if need be.” 

    FF, still struggling in Marco’s grip, stared at Undertaker in horror.  The injustice of the whole thing started to hit him.  He had been ripped from his world by Sanctuary to be used as their tool for reshaping it, been ‘rescued’ and then abandoned by Macavity, gotten a cold from walking in the rain, captured by a bastard running a Pokékit mill and now was about to be killed by some creepy expy of a pro-wrestler?!

    FUCK THAT, something inside of him said.  Thunder crackled, loudly enough to startle both Marco and the Undertaker.  Lightning flashed, another deafening crackle of thunder rippling through the sky as FF stared up into the rain, pulling at the powerful arm holding him by the neck.

    Marco tried to keep his grip on FF, but the out-of-shape looking kid was suddenly showing a lot of strength, more than what adrenaline should have provided as he forced Marco’s heavily muscled arm away from his throat.  FF slowly turned towards Marco, a savage grin on his face as started gripping Marco’s arm with increasing force. 

    “Who…” Marco said, fear leaking into his voice, “Who the fuck are you!?”

    FF just grinned, and broke Marco’s arm.  The scar-faced man screamed, but before he could do anything else, FF’s hands were around his throat, squeezing hard enough to crush his trachea.  The lsst thing Marco saw before dying was FF’s eyes, which seemed to have lightning flashing through them.  As Marco died, FF let out a feral scream of rage, collapsing and falling unconscious. 

    Undertaker and his two Pokégirls stared, dumbstruck at FF, not sure what happened. 

    “Master?” the Panthriducia said, “What happen?”

    Elvyra, who had come out halfway through the confrontation, shivered.  “When that boy broke free… For a moment, Master, his aura felt like yours…”

    Undertaker frowned.  “This boy… He is something different.” 

    The Panthriducia, sitting on all fours, frowned.  “What we do with him, master?”

    Undertaker frowned, his dark black eyes thoughtful.  “The BFJD should be here soon… I need to discuss something with them.  We may have to keep this boy’s existence a secret even from the McMahons…”

    The Panthriducia mewled.  “No tell Vince?  I thought you and he friends,” she said, confused.

    “We are, Jenka,” the Undertaker said, “But if what I sensed from this boy is real… Then this must supersede even our friendship…”

---TO BE CONTINUED---